Parchment Projectiles of Love
by Nefayrious
Summary: No one ever said being a teenager was easy. Immaturity runs rampant, simple jewelry foretells evil happenings, and the wizarding world's only hope considers a piece of metal jammed through her tongue an acceptable fashion accessory.
1. The Simple Pleasures

Once upon a time there was a company that made chainsaws. Today, the company still makes chainsaws, but with a new twist: each saw is adorned a little label that says "WARNING: Do not use near genitals." One can only imagine why they felt the need to caution us against such things. Perhaps there was some sort of lawsuit, after which these warnings were required to be placed on the product in plain view. Then, if anyone repeated that terrible, terrible mistake, the makers of the chainsaw would be perfectly free from fault - after all, the user was warned. With this in mind, please read the following messages carefully.

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

P.S. Do not use near genitals.

xoxoxoxo

For all his airs of sophistication, for all his years of classy upbringing, when it came right down to it, Blaise Zabini was still just a guy. He thus engaged in behavior characteristic to his gender, which was why he was currently flicking bits of parchment at the object of his affections, two seats over and one row up.

The young lady in question was oblivious to his activities, seeing as not one "projectile of love" (as Blaise referred to them) had yet hit her. The students around her, as well as the professor, were throwing annoyed looks his way, which were lost on the love struck teen.

"Score!" Blaise whispered to himself as the crumpled bit of parchment struck the girl's left ear, earning him a dirty look and a rude gesture. Which, Blaise reasoned, could be seen as an invitation. He grinned at her, blew a kiss, and mouthed "Later", which she ignored, returning to her task of drawing on the notebook before her.

His name in hearts? He dared to hope.

xoxoxoxo

Well, well, well. What was Zabini up to now? Draco Malfoy narrowed his eyes at his best friend sitting directly in front of him. Zabini sure as hell had a lot of nerve, throwing things at _his_ girl. Such acts of violence against his beloved would not be tolerated! Well, two could play this game.

Muttering under his breath, Draco tore the corner off his notes and crumpled it into a ball. Ready, aim, fire! Direct hit! The parchment struck the girl square on the nose, and Draco smirked in response to the murderous look Blaise shot him. The blond turned his attentions back to his target to find her giving him a death stare that a basilisk would envy. He gulped and shrank down a bit in his seat.

It idly crossed his mind that it was quite sad when a Gryffindor's glare could make a Slytherin's look like Hello Kitty in a temper tantrum.

Not that he knew who Hello Kitty was. Being far too, ah, manly and anti-muggle for that sort of thing. Ahem.

xoxoxoxo

Bloody hell. What was wrong with these people? Were all the Slytherin guys on freaking crack this morning?

Hermione Granger peeked at the weirdoes in question discreetly out the corner of her eye. Holy Merlin - No. They weren't. She sighed. Yes. They were. Both boys were in possession of perfectly functional wands, the use of which would make this class a hell of a lot more interesting, yet it appeared they were engaging in battle with . . . quills. Of all things.

Hermione watched the fight disinterestedly for a moment longer before turning back to her notebook. She smiled as the stick figures of Zabini and Malfoy she had drawn and charmed met several creative, horrible deaths, over and over. Smile widening slightly, she began sketching a half-ferret, half-human blond creature being decapitated by a hippogriff. Oh, for the simple pleasures.

xoxoxoxo

"Say, Mione," Ron Weasley began, jogging to catch up with his friend. "Mione, wait up!"

She inhaled deeply and prayed for patience. "Please don't call me that, Ron. Now what is it?"

The redhead was panting slightly as he reached her side. "Cripes, you move fast, Mione." Her left eye twitched. Ron failed to notice. "Anyway, what's going on with Zabini and Malfoy?"

Hermione blinked at him, feigning befuddlement. "Er, they're secretly lovers? I dunno, you want gossip, go to Lavender. No one ever tells me everything." She shrugged and continued to the library.

"Mione!" He ran after her.

"Don't. Call. Me. That," she snarled, quickening her pace.

Again, Ron paid no heed to the warning. "That's not what I mean and you know it. Geez, slow down! If you have something going on with those two, you're going to have a lot of explaining -"

"She already does," Harry interrupted, waiting by the library doors. "Mione, what the hell are you wearing?"

She struggled to ignore the abominable nickname; She couldn't very well complete her Hogwarts education locked in Azkaban on murder charges. So she would seek revenge by irritating him as much as he did her. In a delay tactic expressly to aggravate him further she looked down at her black combat boots, striped over-the-knee socks, denim miniskirt and black Linkin Park spaghetti-strap tank top. "Um, clothes?" She replied sarcastically.

He gave her a look indicating her levity was not appreciated. "Mione, I thought I told you to get rid of those things."

"You want me to wander around naked? Well, sure, I guess, but-"

"Shut it, Mione; you know exactly what I mean. That's hardly a classy look. You want present a more mellow, clean cut image. I hope you took my advice and removed that tongue ring. It's quite unsanitary."

"No, _you're_ unsanitary," Hermione retorted obnoxiously, attempting to further provoke him.

There was a long pause.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, bewildered.

"Excused!" Hermione chirped, then skipped down the hall before they gave up trying to work out

what she said.

It didn't make sense. She knew that very well. But, see, this was the point. Reasonable arguments the boys were accustomed to and spoke right over, but such unorthodox replies made them shut up and think for a moment. They hadn't quite figured out that the intent of their formerly serious and straight laced friend was to be ridiculous and _not_ make sense. Which was just how she wanted it.

She trotted down a grassy hill toward the lake, stopping just before a tree near the shore. She glanced around to ensure no one was watching before climbing. Settling on a branch about fifteen feet up, she pulled out her notebook and quill to add the finishing touches on her latest drawing. Hermione loved this spot; it was the best place to escape those who sought to disrupt her peace. No one ever thought to look in a tree, of all places, for the brainy, non-athletic Gryffindor.

Or so she thought.

xoxoxoxo

Step one to repairing the crap I wrote during dumber years. I've decided to make it my summer project.

Thanks for all your praise and encouragement, as well as sympathies for the loss of my beloved laptop, may she rest in peace.


	2. Up Yours

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Draco backed away from the window with a smirk. Silly Granger thought she could hide from him. He gave a sinister cackle, which was cut short by swearing as he tripped over Crabbe's teddy bear.

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending upon one's perspective), Blaise entered the dorm room just in time to see Draco crash gracelessly to the floor at the hands of the pink stuffed muggle toy.

"No need to bow at my entrance, Draco. We are friends, you know." Blaise stepped carefully over the other boys' possessions that littered the floor, and reached out to assist the blond. "Hair color really showing today, eh?"

Draco swatted Blaise's hand away and climbed to his feet unaided. "Shove it, Zabini. What are you doing in here, anyway?"

Blaise rose an eyebrow. "I could ask the same of you."

"I'm admiring the view," he answered haughtily. After all, it wasn't entirely a lie.

The dark haired boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Admiring the view, eh? Say, you wouldn't happen to know where Hermione is, would you?"

"I'm not her babysitter." Draco shrugged and tried to act nonchalant.

"Now I _know _you know where she is," Blaise accused.

Draco glared at him. "How dare you insinuate that I would tell a lie!"

"Where?" was the short reply.

"Up a tree," Draco shot back sarcastically, knowing with that tone, Blaise wouldn't believe it. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." He attempted to sweep dramatically out of the room, and would have succeeded were it not for a small stumble over someone's ballerina diary.

"Not a word," he threatened. And quite needlessly, for Blaise was content with snickering.

xoxoxoxo

Draco trotted down the front steps towards the lake, soothing his bruised ego and ignoring the strange looks he was receiving.

"Its okay, man, you're still cool. No one but you could pull a stunt like that and still look dead sexy. Don't let Zabini get to you; you, Dashing Draco, are the man."

He stopped at the base of a tall tree, took a deep breath, and looked up.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger," he greeted her, putting on what he thought was a suave, debonair expression.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Dear Merlin, Malfoy, what is it now?"

"I have a request," he replied smoothly. "Would you-"

"Request denied," Hermione interrupted, and returned to charming her drawings.

Draco dropped the James Bond act and pouted, looking rather adorable when he did so, Hermione couldn't help but note. "You didn't even listen," the blond boy whined.

"Nor do I intend to."

"But if you would just-"

"No."

"I just want to-"

"No."

"But what if I-"

"No."

"Do you hate me?"

"Yes."

"Damn." He frowned. "You were supposed to say no again."

"I'm not on auto-pilot, Malfoy; I actually pay attention to what I'm saying. Sorry to disappoint." She began a new drawing; this time the ferret/human creature was being tossed to and fro by the giant squid.

"Auto-what?"

"Never mind. Muggle thing," she explained.

"Damn muggles," he muttered, but she heard.

"For Neptune's sake, Malfoy, are you just incapable of saying anything nice to anyone?" she exploded, meeting the end of her patience with the Slytherin dope.

"Yes!" he defended, looking insulted.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Uh…." A blank expression crossed his face. "Er… you have nice…um…ankles?" he tried.

She buried her head in her hands. "Malfoy…just…leave. Just go away."

"Under one condition." He smiled slyly.

"What," she said through gritted teeth.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend," Ferret-boy proposed.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. He was either not serious, or not sober. "Go to Hell immediately, and leave me be."

"C'mon, Granger, you know you want to," he wheedled.

"I have a better idea. You leave under this condition: if you do, I won't hex you into next Thursady. Mmk?" She pulled out her wand and pointed it at him.

He gulped nervously. "Fair enough. But you'll come around. They always do." And then he dashed away before she could retaliate.

"Asshole," she commented.

xoxoxoxo

Blaise cracked the main doors of the castle to watch Draco stroll across the grass to a tree near the lake. He appeared to be conversing with the branches. "Always knew the Malfoys were a weird bunch," he muttered to himself.

He closed the door and began to walk away, then froze as his mind collected the image of Draco talking to a tree and the boy's earlier words, added two and two, and arrived at . . . seven? No, that can't be right. Maybe the Malfoy moron was sane.

He turned back to the door and swung it open just as Draco dashed by him. "It's, uh, raining," he offered as weak explanation.

"Sure," Blaise replied. "and Malfoys never lie." But alas, Draco had already vanished from sight. Shaking his head, stepped out the door into bright sunlight, and meandered down to the tree Draco had been conversing with.

"Afternoon, Miss Granger."

xoxoxoxo

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M-McKnight: Thanks; I hope it turns out better than my first attempt. And no, they aren't dating, Harry's just being an ass. Not for the sake of being an ass; but sort of the older brother/ parent thing - my father and older brother feel the same way about my wardrobe as Harry does about Hermione's. See?

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Southern Gaelic: 'Tis the first chapter. The plot has yet to develop. Sort of like how a human fetus looks like that of a duck early on.

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Jackalope hunter: Thanks oodles for the compliments xD See above for the reason behind Harry's controlling-ness. It makes sense, really. And thank you for your condolences; feel free to send flowers.

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LadySnake: Thank you for the encouragement, and I appreciate you sticking with me from Goth Princess to here. Let me know if I stray to far from the original idea. Also, what do you think of the new title?

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**engelslovesmarx**: Thank you; I'll update as frequently as my limited attention span will allow xD

o

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**Excuse me Mr. Mister**: Lol, not an LP fan? That's okay; when I wrote the original of this it was my favorite band, but they've lost quite a bit of their appeal. I didn't feel like changing it. To be honest, my current faves aren't the greatest either. My favorite music is whatever has lyrics matching my current mood. -shrugs-

PS: At 16, my taste in music is allowed to suck xP

o

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Fire Sorcerer: Thanks. Again, can't promise frequent updates, and frankly, I prolly won't finish this summer. But I'll do my best.

o

Peace out, y'all; see ya next chappy.


	3. Like a Sleazy Bar

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

"We need a plan," Harry announced.

"Right," Ron agreed.

"To get the old Mione back."

"Er, which one? The annoying first year, the nerdy second year, the overstressed third year -"

Harry cut him off. "Any of those will work. These days she just isn't herself. She's just . . . strange . . ." he trailed off. "Unsanitary? How am I unsanitary . . ." He wandered away, forehead scrunched in concentration.

"More fiber, Pothead," Malfoy helpfully suggested as he passed, deliberately misreading Harry's expression.

"Shut up, Ferret Face." Ron attempted a sneer, but the result was similar to all his other expressions, and Harry's look of concentration.

"You as well, Weasel. Honestly, your diet must be as poor as you are." He laughed and strolled off.

Harry turned to Ron. "Think Lav will lend me some of that antibacterial hand cream?" he asked, oblivious to what had just occurred.

Ron merely blinked, certain that both of his two best friend were losing it.

"I hope she has blueberry scented."

Nope, whatever "it" was, was already long gone.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione slammed her head against the tree trunk repeatedly. "Sweet Merlin; kill me now."

"You'd be the most beautiful corpse in all the land," Blaise attempted to charm.

Hermione closed her eyes, with a childish wish that if she couldn't see him, perhaps he couldn't see her.

Blaise cleared his throat pointedly. "Ahem, Hermione?"

The lady in question cringed. Nope, didn't work. And if that wish failed, it was also highly unlikely that Zabini would suddenly burst into flame.

"Go away, Zabini," she ordered waspishly.

"First, I have something to ask of you." He smirked, knowing it would annoy her to no end. She really rather attractive when angry.

However, as was her nature, Hermione disappointed him sorely. "Fine, make it quick," she acquiesced wearily. Honestly, the conversations with the pathetic guys who attended this school were wearing on her.

Blaise quickly remembered that his goal now was information gathering, not irritation. Though if both were manageable, great. "What did Malfoy want?" he demanded.

"Ooh, someone sounds a bit jealous. Perhaps it's true; you and Ferret boy _are_ secret lovers." Hermione snickered as Blaise turned slightly green. With the gift of intelligence came not only the ability to study books, but people, and Hermione was well-learned in the area of knowing exactly what buttons to push.

"Hermione, please, NEVER say that again," he begged.

She grinned with malice. "So, how _is_ our favorite blond in the sack?"

"I- I have to- to go. Now. Yes. Leave. Vomit. Oh, Merlin." He dashed away, making it as far as the castle doors before turning to hurl violently into a bush. Hagrid ran towards him yelling about landscaping and wielding a large shovel.

Hermione laughed gleefully. "Oh, come now, Drakey's not _that_ bad," she chuckled to no one. She then realized what she had said and felt faintly nauseated.

"I think it's time to go inside. The sun is muddling my mind. Yes, that's it; too much sun," she mumbled to herself. She leapt down from tree and shuffled up to the castle, trying very hard not to think about certain Slytherins.

xoxoxoxo

"_HARRY JAMES POTTER!_" Ginny shrieked, tearing down the girls' stairs in fury. The students in the common room took cover, leaving only Harry and Ron.

"Um, yes?" he answered tentatively, cowering slightly.

"Care to explain _this_?" the girl demanded, shaking an bottle at him furiously.

"Well…it appears to be a bottle of cherry-vanilla anti-bacterial hand gel," the boy-who-lived responded carefully, lest the condition for which he was named change at the angry redhead's hands.

"And what," she ground out, "is wrong with it?"

"Um, well, it appears you're running a bit low-"

"It's _empty_, Potter, _EMPTY!_ Now, why is that?"

"Er, well, I, uh-"

"Dammit, Harry, this was expensive! You said you needed 'a bit'! What the hell happened? And why did you want it in the first place?"

Hermione chose that moment to stumble through the portrait hole.

"Hello, all; what'd I miss?" About five feet from them she stopped. "Oh, gross; which one of you smells like a sleazy strip bar?"

Harry shifted his gaze.

"Harry?" Hermione laughed. "Where have you been wandering? You reek of smoke and cheap perfume!"

"Hey!" exclaimed Ginny, looking affronted. "That stuff is not cheap!"

"Harry's been covering himself in anything anti-bacterial since you called him unsanitary," Ron informed the girls. "I think he even tried to eat it."

Harry stood silently, staring determinedly at his shoes.

"And the smoke?"

"Neville set himself on fire in Remedial Potions," the Weasley boy explained.

"I see," chuckled Hermione.

Ginny grew impatient with the chit-chat, and after declaring as much, she threw the bottle at Harry, hitting him on the scar, and stomped up the girls' stairs, threatening that if he ever went near her beauty products again, she'd remove something very dear to him.

By then, most of the common room's inhabitants had returned from their various hiding places and continued their activities. Though apparently they had still been listening; most of the lot sniggered at this threat to Harry's anatomy.

Hermione followed Ginny up the steps, still in good humor over the conversation. Annoying as the boys could be, she truly did adore them.

She entered the 5th year dorm where the youngest Weasley was still in a snit.

"Honestly, I can't believe him," she bitched. "What the hell was he thinking? And what's this about being unsanitary?"

"Long story," said Hermione, rummaging through the mess of books in Ginny's trunk. Honestly, the girl had no organizational skills.

"Hmph." Ginny flopped onto her bed. "I swear, days like these, I don't know who annoys me more, Malfoy for general assholishness, or Harry for moments of idiocy as just demonstrated."

"Ooh, speaking of Malfoy…" Hermione proceeded to tell the younger girl about her day. Ginny laughed uproariously at Zabini's reaction to the idea of Malfoy and him as a couple.

"Sweet Merlin, if they really were-"

"Ugh, Gin, stop there." Hermione cringed. "Not something I want to think about."

Ginny grinned mischievously. "I dunno, it'd be kinda hot; imagine, both of them-"

"GINNY!" Hermione shrieked. "Stop!"

The redhead laughed. "Seriously, take your fingers out of your ears; I was only going to mention how heartbroken the entire female population of Hogwarts would be. Not to mention some of the guys."

"They aren't that great," Hermione mumbled, averting her eyes.

"Liar," Gin pronounced. "You think they're sexy, too."

"Well, who wouldn't?" Hermione defended.

Ginny held her hands up. "Hey, chill; you're absolutely correct. Hell, if he weren't such a prat, I might go for Draco. I mean, the boy is a total babe."

"You best never allow any of your bothers hear you say that," the brunette cautioned. "And I'm still annoyed with both those Slytherin pricks. Ginny, get that look off your face. I know exactly what you're thinking, and I would really rather you not verbalize it."

Ginny grinned cheekily. "Fine, I won't say it, but you really ought to choose your words more carefully. Anywho, instead I'll say this: I think I know exactly how to get back at the two of them."

"Oh, no," groaned Hermione. "I like that look even less."

xoxoxoxo

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tiduwen: Thank you very much! But I'll be truthful; that statement wasn't too clear: I wrote the original (Goth Princess) when I was 16. I actually just turned 18, so there's really no excuse for this nonsense. However, I still firmly believe that until I leave for college, I am allowed to maintain a lousy taste in music.

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Lola Totalus: Thank you, but truth be told, I prolly won't. My dilemma here is that I need focus to update regularly; I need my ADD meds for focus; but on medication I have the worst writer's block. My muses abandon me. -sigh- I just can't win.

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Excuse me Mr. Mister: Fortunately, I have a backup excuse in the event that laziness is deemed unacceptable, as seen above. Either way, thanks for the compliments - I appreciate the encouragement xD

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Kichou: Thanks! Sadly, the update was prolly not as soon coming as you hoped, but nevertheless, 'tis here.

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tahwekilelohcin: Wow, that's a mouthful, lol. Anywho, thanks, I hope the story continues to be to your liking. Unfortunately, this is the point where things usually deteriorate, but stick with me; they should look up in a chapter or so. J

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M-McKnight: Thank you! And I'm glad you understand; I was afraid that it all wasn't to clear. As you can see here, he isn't a total ass, just a part-time one. The thing is, all in all, Harry is a guy. Plain and simple.

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LadySnake: Thanks; I'm glad. I thought it was fun, and I like randomness in titles (see chapter titles, lol.)

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Ilovetom88: Thank you J I can't wait, either; I'm not yet entirely sure. Ah, well; an adventure for everyone!

Later, y'all!


	4. Crippled Puppies

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Blaise staggered into the hospital wing in agony. "Madame Pomfrey, quick!" He collapsed onto a nearby bed.

Mme. Pomfrey hurried toward him. "My dear boy, what is it?" she asked in alarm.

"Eearg," he whined, clutching his head as though it might combust at any moment.

"What happened?" Mme. Pomfrey was truly panicked. She began checking his head for visible injuries.

Blaise grabbed her hand. "Obliviate. Quick. Hurry," he pleaded.

"I beg your pardon?" Mme. Pomfrey was somewhat baffled at this request.

"Please!" He began to bang his head against a wall. "Brain-" _Slam!_ "Dirty!" _Slam!_ "Bad-" _Slam! _"Mental image!" _Slam!_

"Oh, for Merlin's sake." She placed a cushioning charm on the wall to prevent Zabini from further injuring himself. Finding that his masochism was no longer effective, he curled into the fetal position and whimpered.

"Mr. Zabini, never do that again. Such behavior is for emergencies only," she scolded.

"This is an emergency!"

"Out!"

Blaise slumped out of the infirmary pouting. She didn't understand. And he was rather reluctant to explain; just saying it would be painful and embarrassing.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione and Ginny strolled down the halls of Hogwarts, jointly contemplating various forms of revenge, on both the Slytherins, and Harry and Ron.

"But Ginny, I can't do that!"

"Why not, Hermione?"

"It's like kicking puppies. Crippled puppies. With Down Syndrome," Hermione tried to explain to her best friend.

Ginny just laughed. "Puppies don't get Down Syndrome, you goose. And they're just boys. They'll get over it, after a few weeks of tears and a decade or so of therapy."

Hermione blanched.

"I'm just kidding," assured the redhead, eyes wide. "Honestly, girl, relax. You're way to uptight."

In retaliation, Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ginny, who shuddered at the sight of the silver piercing. "Eeeurg," she evaluated.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You sound like Harry and Ron. It's just a tongue ring. Anyway, so says the girl with a navel ring."

"Shhhh!" Ginny's eyes darted around the empty corridor in alarm. "Keep that down, _Mione_; if Ron or Harry overhear they'll have a fit. And at least it's not in my mouth."

"No, but wouldn't that be an interesting trick if you could manage it." Hermione sniggered, and Ginny's mouth quirked in a half smile at the mental image that was forming.

"Shut up," she said. "Come on; let's go find those crippled puppies."

xoxoxoxo

"Do you think Ginny's mad?" Harry asked his best friend. He threw a rock into the lake, narrowly missing the giant squid.

"Nah, it's probably just that time of the month," Ron replied disinterestedly, flipping through _Witch Weekly_.

"Maybe," Harry mused. "But what if - say, what's that you're reading?"

"Nothing." Ron hastily hid the magazine. "So, are you going to replace all the anti-bacterial stuff you stole?"

"Yeah. Maybe not Parvati's, though; she doesn't know it was me that took it. She still thinks she just lost it."

"She'll figure out, mate. Girls talk, and she'll guess," explained Ron wisely.

"True. I guess we're going to Madame B's Bath and Beauty next Hogmeades weekend." He didn't look too thrilled at the prospect, but the idea of every girl in Gryffindor after his blood was even less appealing.

"Excellent; I need some things," Ron absently said.

"What!"

"Uh, nothing." Ron stood. "Let's go; lunch is soon."

Harry shook his head and followed. There was something very weird about his best friend.

xoxoxoxo

Draco strolled down the hall aimlessly, whistling an indiscernible tune as he went. About ten feet before him, he spied Blaise trudging down the stairs from the infirmary.

"Hey, Zabini!" he called.

Blaise took one look at the blond, turned white, and ran.

"What's his deal?" Draco wondered to no one.

xoxoxoxo

Ron and Harry entered the castle in time to see Zabini dash by, muttering incoherently about blonds, trees, and bed sheets.

They looked at each other, shrugged, and continued to the great hall.

Living at Hogwarts for most of the past five and a half years had given them a great tolerance for oddities.

xoxoxoxo

"Ginny…." Hermione began hesitantly. "I just don't know…" She fiddled absently with a lock of curly hair.

The redhead turned to fix her friend with a stern look. "Hermione, it's the only way. You want them to leave you alone, don't you?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Then roll with me here. The only way they'll stop pursuing you is if they believe they'll never have a shot in hell."

"They don't as is," Hermione lied, glad she had become rather adept at it. Causing mischief with the youngest Weasley had done that to her.

Ginny impatiently tapped her foot. "But they don't know that, and won't believe it until proof of it is right before their eyes." She paused. "It's this, or get married."

Hermione widened her eyes. "I'm to young to tie the knot! And who would I do it with?"

"Ron or Harry, take your pick. You know they'd do it."

The brunette turned a faint green.

"We also have to continue to give them grief about their relationship," Ginny continued.

"Their non-existent relationship," reminded Hermione.

"Minor detail." Ginny waved her hand unconcernedly. "As long as it's public, the truth is irrelevant."

"Ginny!"

"What?" she asked innocently.

Hermione shook her head. "You," she declared, "are too evil. I am ashamed, yet distressingly proud, to be your friend."

Ginny smirked. "Compliments noted and much appreciated."

"So glad."

xoxoxoxo

Ron was making his way rapidly (and sloppily) through his lunch and would've failed to notice the Great Hall suddenly fall silent were it not for Harry, who rather noisily dropped his fork in shock. He turned to the doors to see what the fuss was all about, and nearly dropped his own utensil in surprise. He quickly covered his eyes.

"That is _not_ something I wanted to see."

He hazarded another glance and immediately wished he hadn't. It was still there, in plain view, his baby sister and his best friend snogging blatantly by the doors. Ron averted his eyes, and they fell on Harry, who was staring at the couple and looked incredibly angry.

"When I said make a good public impression," he ground out, "I certainly did not mean _that_." He stood, marched over to the two, and pulled them apart. He took each by the elbow and led them out, yelling about class and propriety all the way.

xoxoxoxo

Over at the Slytherin table, very different reactions were invoked in Hermione's admirers.

Blaise was hitting his head against the table repeatedly. No wonder she wasn't responding to his advances. She didn't swing that way. Dammit, dammit, dammit!

Draco, on the other hand was still staring at the doors. "Wow," he finally said. "That was hot."

xoxoxoxo

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Kichou: I feel bad for Blaise, too; yet I must confess that such is my favorite and much implemented way to annoy a guy.

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Twitchy-tennis player: Thank you! Hopefully the next chappy will be short coming, but I make no promises.

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Fiona Mckinnon: Thanks xD I feel stupid for asking, but what's "PAMS" mean?

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**Excuse me Mr. Mister**: Ha. Don't pretend to me you don't take joy in receiving weird looks. I won't believe it.

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The girl trapped in a dream: I wish I could promise that the cracking up will continue, but sadly, I cannot. Right now I trying to figure out where to stick in my plot, which isn't all kicks and giggles (but it should be. Hmmm…) Well, it's sort of a plot. I think we're still in the duck fetus stage.

Anywho, thankies to everyone for your support and compliments! (I feel so loved xD) See ya next chappy, which is already in the making.

Also, at this point I feel I ought to reassure everyone that this is not a Ginny/Hermione fic. That little "relationship" is just way to divert Blaise and Draco's attentions. But alas, Gryffindors never really were very good at plotting.


	5. Jelly Beans

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Harry paced before the prefect common room fire. "I am disgusted with both of you," he announced. "I mean, really, what will people think?"

"That we're having hot, passionate, wild monkey sex?" Hermione smirked. She hadn't considered his reaction when evaluating Ginny's plan, and she had to admit she was enjoying his distress immensely.

Harry looked scandalized and Ginny concealed her laugh with a cough.

"I should certainly hope not!" He tried not to think too much about that. "Ladies, public displays of affection are one thing, but with each other? The image that such a thing will present-"

"You know, Harry," Ginny interrupted. "Maybe if you stopped thinking about public image and our social lives, and start focusing on your own, you'll get some, too." She stomped out the door.

Hermione didn't even bother concealing her laughter as she followed her friend out, leaving Harry wondering if Ginny was right, mixed in with thoughts of a certain someone.

xoxoxoxo

Draco lurked outside the Gryffindor common room, hoping to run into the littlest Weasley - not that he'd ever admit it. But with that little kinky streak she apparently had going on he'd be willing to go through the shame of consorting with a Weasley any day, provided that she brought Granger along for the ride - and even if not, it was the redhead was still tempting.

The more rational part of him knew that he ought to go back to his dormitory, that this would never happen, but the Malfoy in him naturally ignored intelligence and reason and stuck around anyway.

xoxoxoxo

At this time, Blaise was in the hospital wing, having finally earned a semblance of sympathy with a genuine headache and upset stomach. The poor boy had had a very long, distressing day.

xoxoxoxo

"Think that may have been a bit harsh, Gin?"

Ginny and Hermione were sprawled out on the beds in the Gryffindor fifth year dorms, chatting and eating candy.

"Oh, please." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking the exact same thing."

"Be that as it may," Hermione began opening a bag of something brightly colored. "I rather think that-"

"Unholy Salazar, Hermione; are those _jelly beans_!" Ginny cut in. "Please tell me those aren't from last Easter."

"No," the older girl answered calmly. "The year before that."

Gin looked disgusted. "That's just nasty."

Hermione looked at her friend indignantly. "I don't think I'd want to live in a world where jelly beans went bad after only year and a half."

xoxoxoxo

Blaise was sulking peacefully on a bed in the hospital wing, wondering idly if he could convince Hermione to choose him and heterosexuality over Ginny. So wrapped up he was in his thoughts, he nearly failed to notice the door creak open.

He watched in confusion as a beetle scuttled across the floor - beetles don't open doors, do they? His befuddlement didn't abate, only switch focus when that nutty Ravenclaw - Lovegood, wasn't it? - crawled in after it, wearing a pair of glasses large enough to give Trelawney a run for her money.

"What the Hell are you doing, Lovegood?" he asked, glad for the distraction.

She looked up at him and blinked, a disturbing sight with the magnification of the glasses. "Evening, Zabini. How are you?"

"I'm sitting in the bloody infirmary, what do you think?"

She paused, and studied him for a minute, which, truth be told, freaked him out.

"How do you fall in love?" she inquired, with the tone of one asking whether he'd like sugar or milk in his tea.

"Pardon?" he blinked at her in confusion.

"How do you fall in love?" she repeated in the same tone, with the same curious gaze.

He paused a moment. "I wish I knew. There's no real trick to it, I suppose. And there are so many different ways that it happens. Sometimes it's gradual, loving someone a little more each day; sometimes it's sudden, one moment you're in control of your life, the next, you're so out of your league." He stopped. Where the hell had that come from? Why was he discussing this with Loony, of all people?

"How did you fall in love with Hermione?" she asked, examining the beetle, and appearing as though she were not listening in the slightest.

"I'm not-"

"Don't lie."

Her disinterest made Blaise feel that it were relatively safe to confide in her. And if she breathed a word of it to any, well, who would believe Loony Lovegood?

"Well…back in our first year…"

xoxoxoxo

__

First Year, sorting ceremony

An eleven-year-old Blaise Zabini nervously looked around the Great Hall. The sorting ceremony was about to begin, and he was nervous as hell. a/n: and _of course_ a child of his age doesn't think in that sort of language ; ) He hoped to be sorted into Slytherin, like his father. He tried to remember what house his mother had been in. Funny. He didn't think anyone had ever told him. Oh, well. He watched with a vague interest as students with last names A-F were sorted into houses.

Then, "Granger, Hermione!" A fluffy haired girl ran up to the hat grinning wide. Wow, he thought, she's pretty when she smiles like that. Her front teeth stuck out a bit but it made her seem innocent and adorable. Wait. What on earth was he thinking? Girls had cooties! He couldn't actually _like_ one of the evil beasts. But what was her name again? _Hermione_. Beautiful. Poetic. He watched as she was sorted and walked to one of the four long tables in the Hall. He was so absorbed in her graceful movements, he wasn't listening when his name was called.

"ZABINI, BLAISE!" The strict looking witch yelled his name a third time. Blushing furiously, he speed walked to the front. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you looked at it) the girl wasn't even looking at him.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat yelled. Blaise tried to be happy but he couldn't. He wanted to be in the same house as his father, but this meant he was not with the charming girl with the endearing smile.

As he sat down, a blond haired boy approached him. "Hello. I'm Draco Malfoy. What's your name?"

"Blaise Zabini." The two boys shook hands.

__

One hour later. . . .

The two boys had become friends fast. Draco was so cool. He was only eleven and he_ already had minions_. Wow. Crabbe and Goyle catered to Draco's every whim. Sure they were painfully stupid, but that made them all the easier to control. This guy was a genius. Not to mention he belonged to one of the most prominent wizarding families in Europe. Blaise's father would be pleased.

Draco was very impressed with Blaise as well. The guy was incredibly brilliant. He needed intelligent conversation and heaven knows the two oafs Crabbe and Goyle couldn't supply it. And for some reason everyone else was afraid of him. Blaise might even be smarter than me, Draco mused. Not that he would ever admit it.

Blaise had but one problem with Draco.

He had once again lost the conversation in favor of observing his new crush. This time Draco had followed his gaze to Hermione.

"Look at that bushy haired mudblood. I can't believe they let that sort in here," Draco said with contempt.

Blaise didn't say anything for a moment. He rather liked her fluffy brown hair. Finally he responded.

"I don't know. I kind of feel sorry for her. Look. No one is really talking to her."

"There's a reason for that, Zabini," Draco drawled.

Blaise continued looking at her. He never understood the whole pureblood vs. mudblood thing. Being a pureblood himself he had heard it all his life of course, but it still didn't make sense. And unlike Draco, he never accepted anything as fact. He always had to know why. Poor girl.

"Blaise," Draco gasped. "You don't actually- _like a girl,_ do you? Girls are just gross."

Blaise sensed his new (and only) friendship was on the line. "No, don't be an idiot. Girls have cooties! Plus, she's a _mudblood_. Come on." As Blaise laughed, he felt a pain in his heart at the horrible name. This girl, muggle born or no, was an angel. She didn't deserve the cruelty the boy beside him was plotting.

xoxoxoxo

__

Present

"…and it sort went off from there. In the beginning, I think a lot of it was more a need to protect her than actual love." He looked over at Lovegood. "That sounds stupid, doesn't it?"

She gazed back at him with magnified eyes. "Not at all."

Luna wandered toward the door with an almost aimless air. She paused before passing through. "It's really all a game, you know. They aren't for real."

xoxoxoxo

Blaise sat wondering what she meant for about 11.68 seconds, then jumped out of the bed. He ran to the door, swung it open, realized he was still wearing the white infirmary night gown, and dashed back in. He changed into his clothes in record time, then sped towards the Gryffindor dorms in search of a frizzy-haired, buck-toothed angel.

xoxoxoxo

Luna strolled away from the hospital wing, with thoughts so coherent they'd have shocked anyone who did not know her well.

Blaise had told an interesting story.

She wondered if Gyrffindors were much the same.

xoxoxoxo

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ilovetom88: Glad you like it. Having too many male friends, more than is prolly mentally healthy, I had a pretty decent idea of what a range of reactions might be.

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the girl trapped in a dream: Thanks! Hopefully this was soon enough to your liking xD

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Kichou: As you can see, that was Drakey's response. Tsk. Men. Lol.

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ThingsMakeMeHappy: It took me a while to figure out how to get Blaise to commence with his pursuit, but I was skimming fan fictions and found one with the title, "How do you fall in love?". Since I was also looking for a place to introduce Luna, I decided to borrow that title and kill two birds with one stone. And the diary wasn't really anyone's in particular. Pick a Slytherin, any Slytherin, it's all up to you.

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Fiona McKinnon: Thanks! And that makes more sense than the weirdness my sister and I were thinking up - I didn't think you'd be trying to share a message involving monkeys or the Paleolithic era.

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Cezy Angel: Thank you! I'll try to keep them all within the characters I've designed, but somehow I doubt my mixed up mind can handle it. Please let me know if things get too weird.

Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing! Frankly, I'm surprised that I've been updating like this (usually you've got a month or so between chapters), so don't expect this trend to continue. If it does, well, cool.

Later, y'all!


	6. Cheesy Delirium

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Ron entered the prefect common room to see Harry sitting quietly, staring blankly at the fireplace. He walked over to the boy-who-lived and waved his hand in front of his eyes. "Hello? Anyone home?"

Harry shook his head to clear his thought and smiled up at his best friend. "Hey," he greeted. He then noticed the magazine clutched in Ron's hand. "What's that?"

Ron shrugged and held it out. "The Quibbler. I guess Loony is planning to be a journalist someday." He pointed at the cover which boasted a special article concerning the Hogwarts green houses, written by none other than Luna Lovegood.

Harry took the magazine from Ron. "Is it any good?" he asked, though he already knew it would be marvelous.

"Maybe. I skimmed the first paragraph, couldn't make any sense of it, and gave it up. Thought I might give it to Ginny; she and Mione are friends with Lovegood."

"I'll make sure she gets it," Harry lied. He stood. "I have to go, I'll be back later." He walked swiftly out the door before Ron could stop him.

"See ya later, then, mate," he said, faintly surprised.

xoxoxoxo

Blaise turned a sharp corner, and plowed straight into Draco who was still loitering outside the Gryffindor common room. The boys collapsed in a tangled heap on the floor, just as Hermione and Ginny came through the portrait hole.

"Hey, look, Hermione; you were right. They are lovers." The girls laughed and went off down the corridor, Hermione's left hand clasping Ginny's and her right clutching a handful of ancient jelly beans.

Blaise disentangled himself for Draco with remarkable speed. "We're not, I swear!" he called after Hermione desperately.

"We might be," Draco yelled. "Would it help my situation any?"

"NO!"

xoxoxoxo

Harry leaned against the cold stone of the castle walls, reading Luna's article as though his life depended on it. Apparently, Professor Sprout had been working on some hybrid plants that could potentially be dangerous. This was all part of a conspiracy to remove the minister from office and put a niffler in his place.

Rather than scoff at the nonsense, Harry simply smiled fondly. Such a fanciful girl. Really quite endearing, it was.

He sat up straight as he read the last paragraph.

__

"…point to no other conclusion; however, solid evidence of the plant in question, believed to have large, heart-shaped leaves and tiny, deep purple blossoms, has yet to be procured. Experiments are suspected to be taking place in Hogwarts Greenhouse Thirteen, where, conveniently, no students are allowed. This writer has every intention…"

So she needed the flower. This was perfect. This was exactly what Ginny was talking about. Harry grabbed the Quibbler and ran inside, already planning a late night visit to Greenhouse Thirteen.

xoxoxoxo

"Ah, Hermione; you turned him down so fast, so thoughtlessly," admonished Ginny the moment they were out of earshot.

Hermione dropped the redhead's hand. "I know exactly where this is going, and I _do not want to think about it_."

"And so unwilling to try new things."

"Ginny, I'm trying to eat." She raised her hand, which still held an assortment of jelly beans.

Ginny snorted in derision. "Those stopped qualifying as food last summer. Some may argue that they never did."

"Sugar doesn't rot," Hermione haughtily informed her. "And speaking of sugar, we're going to Hogsmeade tomorrow, yes?"

"I have to meet with McGonagall in the morning, but it shouldn't take long. I'll meet you in Honeydukes at eleven?"

Hermione popped a few candies in her mouth. "Sure."

"By the way, I'm buying you fresh jelly beans while we're there."

The older girl looked affronted. "These are perfectly good! Plus I still have a bag from this past Easter."

"And I'm throwing those out."

Knowing she had lost, Hermione pouted. "Fine. Can I borrow your green miniskirt, to sooth my pain over this monumental loss?"

"Just don't tell Ron it's mine."

xoxoxoxo

Blaise roughly shoved Draco's arm from its position around his shoulders. "Never touch me again." He was shaking slightly.

Draco blinked in confusion. "Dude, I was joking. Relax."

"Joking. Joking…" Blaise tried to calm himself.

"So, anyway," Draco began, still looking at Blaise like he had sprouted a tail, started playing jump rope with it, and singing "I'm a Little Teapot". "We going to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

"Yes, we're going. Well, not us. I mean, yes, us, but not us _us_. As in not together. We're going together, but not _together_. Because I'm not- I don't- I…" Blaise felt horribly confused and stressed to near breaking point.

"Oooookay…" Draco backed away slowly. "You really ought to go back to the infirmary. I'll see you …later…or something…." He turned and ran.

"Damn you, Hermione, you evil, wicked, diabolical, intoxicating, gorgeous, intelligent…" He shook his head. "Yeah, I'm losing it." He headed back to the hospital wing.

xoxoxoxo

__

Ze next day…

"Hand them over!"

"No!"

"NOW!"

"I shall never relinquish my beloved jelly beans! I'll have you know these have been aged to absolute perfection!"

"Hermione, that's disgusting. Now give them here." Ginny lunged at her friend in an attempt to tear the candy from her grasp.

"Never!" Hermione leaped over a sofa and crouched defensively behind the red monstrosity.

The girls had been in the prefect common room arguing over this for more than an hour, and Ginny was going to be late for her meeting. "I give up!" she surrendered, throwing her hands in the air. "You win - for now. I'll be back." She swept dramatically from the room.

Hermione eyed the door suspiciously, as though the redhead might suddenly burst back through it, demanding her precious jelly beans, but five minutes passed and the room was still silent. She climbed the her feet, stuffed the bag of candy in her robes, and headed off for the Gryffindor dorms, more specifically, Ginny's room, where she could rummage through the younger girl's clothing and eat her jelly beans undisturbed.

xoxoxoxo

Harry staggered into the castle, clothes rumpled, and hair even more mussed than usual with twigs and leaves stuck in it. He looked as though he had just done battle with a whomping willow, complete with the obligatory scrapes and bruises. He was grinning though, and had something green and purple clutched in his dirty hand.

He climbed several stories up to the Ravenclaw common room entrance and waited. Within moments, a member of the house exited, and Harry requested an audience with a certain blonde girl. A couple minutes later, Luna came out, looked mildly confused.

"You wanted to see me?" she asked politely.

In response, he held out the object in his hand: a flower with tiny clusters of leaves and large, deep purple, heart-shaped petals. "From Greenhouse Thirteen."

xoxoxoxo

Blaise dreamily wandered from the hospital wing, blissfully doped up on all sorts of stress-relief, anti-anxiety potions, and feeling much the way he suspected Luna Lovegood must - not really all there.

It was very, very nice.

He had been instructed to go straight to his dormitory and spend the day resting, but he saw that Weasely girl and his health was forgotten. Forget resting, he was going to find Hermione and win her back - er, win her over, rather, seeing as he had never won her in the first place. Meaning he hadn't really lost her. Meaning he had her? No, that wasn't right. Wait, what was the question? And where was he going again? His mind slowly trudged back. Right. Hermione. Gryffindor. Ugly portrait. Cheese. What?

Blaise shook his head in befuddlement. Perhaps he should lie down for a bit before hunting down squirrels. Er, Gryffindors. Something like that.

xoxoxoxo

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Fiona McKinnon: Thanks! And that actually makes sense - People And Monkeys Sing. I think to say that a fic inspired such would be a glorious compliment. But then, my sanity has always been questionable at best.

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Fire Sorcerer: Thank you! Hopefully I will keep writing this, but in two weeks those deplorable controlled substances will again be shoved down my throat, and I will again become the irritable bookworm that teachers find so charming. So which ones do you take? As far as Luna goes, I never bought the whole Loony thing - she is a Ravenclaw, there's got to be more to it.

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the girl trapped in a dream: Thanks. I'm trying to get in as much as I can before school starts, because then I'll never write.

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Kichou: Yup, Blaise knows. And Draco, well, yeah. But these things happen.

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Queen Tigress: Thank you very much!

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ilovetom88: Thanks xD Again, I very much believe that Luna is more clever than she may first seem.

Excuse Me Mr. Mister: Didn't think so. Glad I made you laugh, though.

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Phaerie: Thanks. Here's the update xD

Thank you to everyone else who read, has me on their alert and/or favorites list, but did not review (I know who you are oo)

The next chappy is in the making, and should be up this weekend, if not, then next. Next week I have to take a drivers ed course, from 9-3 M-F (all study for the written exam, which is pretty stupid in my opinion, but the insurance company will give me a discount if I take it, so what the hell) so don't expect too much during that time.

Take care, y'all; see ya next chapter!


	7. The Metamucial Marauders

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Luna stared at the flowers for a moment. "Greenhouse Thirteen?" she echoed.

Harry suddenly felt somewhat foolish. "I, um, your article, I-" he fumbled in his pocket a moment and produced the latest issue of the Quibbler. "I read that you needed the flower, so I, uh, went and got it for you…" he trailed off, looking at her helplessly.

"You went to Greenhouse Thirteen?" Her brow furrowed in befuddlement.

"Er, well, yeah," he replied sheepishly, not feeling quite as brave as he had when he'd arrived.

"But, Harry, that's impossible!"

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

She sighed. "The _real_ Greenhouse Thirteen only appears on nights of a three-quarter moon. It's invisible the rest of the time," she explained, as though speaking to a very small child. "And even then, it's guarded by Swedish Molleydops with fluorescent pink tails that blind one instantly."

"Molleydops…" he said slowly.

"Yes," she confirmed. "So even if you could see it, well, then you couldn't see it." She paused. "And the hybrids that I wrote about have small flowers and large leaves - not the other way around," she told him bluntly.

"Oh." He looked positively crushed.

"But it was a very nice thought. And these are quite lovely," she added, patting him on the arm.

He cheered slightly. "You really like them?"

She smiled up at him as though it were the greatest gift she had ever received. "Quite frankly, they make me want to vomit," she informed him reassuringly. Her angelic smile made his stomach leap to his throat, but her words caused his heart to plummet. The two organs collided violently in his chest, and the pain from his injuries returned to Harry with a vengeance. He needed to lie down, which, to his own amazement, but not Luna's, he did.

"Not to mention," she continued, smiling in that same eerie fashion at his prone figure sprawled across the floor, "there are some small side effects that can occur when handling them. You should hurry to the hospital wing before you turn into a giant pink chicken."

He stared at her for about 4 seconds before bursting into fluorescent feather.

xoxoxoxo

Draco strolled towards the main castle doors, whistling tunelessly. He was just thinking how cool he looked cruising along the corridor when he tripped gracelessly on something large and crashed on top of it. Realizing it was a person, and his best friend at that, he scrambled to his feet.

Blaise had assumed a fetal position and was whimpering pathetically. He knew what this meant. He had read Millicent and Pansy's romance novels (not that he would ever admit it), about couples crashing into each other everywhere. This was indeed very, very bad.

Draco blinked in surprise at a mighty Slytherin reduced to this. There was only one thing to do: be a true friend, and give Blaise caring sympathy in the traditional male fashion.

"Oh, quit whining and get up." Draco gave Blaise a good kick. "Wuss," he sneered.

Blaise reluctantly pulled himself to his feet, if only to prove that he was not, in fact, a wuss.

"That's the spirit." Draco clapped his friend heartily on the back. Blaise, not fully recovered, stumbled slightly at the blow. Draco pushed his friend toward the doors, holding an incessant one-sided conversation all the way.

xoxoxoxo

Ginny stood impatiently outside Honeydukes, glaring at anyone foolish enough to look her way. She spared a glance to the small watch pinned to her blouse. 11:14. Where the hell was Hermione?

Two minutes and forty-four seconds later the brunette ambled up the path towards Ginny, slowly, like she had hours and there was not an angry redhead waiting for her. Said brunette was wearing a black zippered hoodie, white spaghetti-strapped top, dark green pleated miniskirt, and mismatched sneakers, all of which looked very familiar to Ginny.

"Hermione! There you are! You're nearly twenty minutes late!" She paused and eyed the girl's attire. "And you're wearing my clothes!"

The older girl waved an unconcerned hand. "What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine. And it's actually closer to fifteen minutes."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Right. Anywho, let's go in; we're buying you fresh jelly beans."

Hermione sighed and trudged in reluctantly after her friend. At least she looked nice.

xoxoxoxo

"Why are we here again?" Blaise was still slightly incapacitated, and had difficultly remembering anything that occurred more than around 5 minutes prior.

So naturally when he realized that he was in a ladies' beauty shop with Draco, he became quite concerned.

Draco sighed impatiently and hit his friend upside the head. "We're here to buy gifts to charm those bloody hard-to-get Gryffindors."

"You can't just buy love, Malfoy," Blaise grumped, rubbing his injured cranium. "It doesn't work that way."

Draco stopped and turned around. "It doesn't?" he asked in utter bafflement.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione sighed in relief a she ducked out of Honeydukes. She peered through the window to ensure Ginny was still preoccupied with arguing with a cashier. The redhead was gesticulating wildly and evidently remained quite unaware of Hermione's absence.

Hermione turned and strolled casually away, but swiftly, lest the redhead realize she was missing sooner than anticipated. Just outside Madame B's Beauty, she noticed in the reflection of a shop window that Ginny was headed her way, though hadn't yet spotted her. She moved to enter the cosmetics shop, but then saw her two least favorite Slytherins in the window. After a quick about-face, she darted into a store across the street.

xoxoxoxo

"Say, isn't that Hermione?" Blaise pointed.

Draco looked up from rummaging through a display of brightly colored cosmetics. "Hm? Oh. Nah, couldn't be. Granger's too smart to go into a place like that."

"If you say so," Blaise answered skeptically, staring at the shop.

"Hey, Zabini," said Draco, taking full advantage of his friend's absentmindedness. He held up two lipsticks in different shades of rose. "Which do you think is more my color, champagne or dusk?"

Blaise shook his head in a futile attempt to clear his mind. He examined the colors for a moment before selecting another. "I think sunrise is more your shade."

xoxoxoxo

Hermione watched as Ginny walked right by, unaware of her presence. Safe, Hermione took the opportunity to have a look at her surroundings. She was in a jewelry shop, a rather dark and dusty one, at that. The place was quiet and empty, and she wondered if it had had any customers within the past decade.

As she surveyed the store, her gaze was suddenly drawn to a tall display case. She wandered over, and was mildly surprised to find it held only one item: A simple silver necklace resting on a forest green pillow, which seemed to be the only clean thing in the shop. On a delicate chain was a lovely charm, a circle encasing a five pointed star, with a snake entwined in the two shapes. Two tiny, sparkling emeralds made up the snakes eyes. Hermione recalled seeing something similar in the Muggle world but she could not recall where. She felt a strange sort of power radiating from it.

"Amazing," she murmured, transfixed by it for inexplicable reasons. Her brown eyes began to glow an electric green, brighter and brighter, as she stood, captivated by the tiny green stones.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Hermione jumped as the shopkeeper entered the room, and her eyes reverted to their natural color.

"Oh, um, yes. Uh, how much is this necklace?"

"Ten Galleons, miss."

"I guess I'll take it then." Hermione pulled out her purse and counted out ten of the gold pieces. Suddenly, she had a powerful urge, telling her no, run, NOW. Another feeling overrode the first, telling her she must have it. Hesitating for only a moment, she gave in to the second impulse, and handed the woman her money. The witch pulled out a tiny gold key and crossed over to the case. She removed the necklace, carried it over to the counter, and began to wrap it in tissue paper.

"NO!"

The woman dropped the necklace in surprise. "Beg pardon?" she asked uneasily.

Hermione flushed. "Um, I mean, I'll just, you know, um, wear it out, and, um, take it, and, um, yeah," she stuttered.

The woman shrugged and handed her the silver piece.

"Thank you." Hermione tried not to bolt from the shop, walking stiffly to the door. Once outside, she felt considerably better.

She opened her hand to get a better look at the necklace resting in her palm. It really was quite pretty. Her eyes again began to glow.

xoxoxoxo

Harry shuffled out of the hospital wing, feeling quite embarrassed. The leaves and twigs that he previously occupied his clothes were now accompanied by several large, pink feathers. His feeling of utter humiliation increased tenfold when he spotted Luna and Ron waiting for him patiently outside the hospital wing.

Ron, having missed everything but seeing Harry in pink poultry form enter, had a look of absolute confusion. The expression was much like his sneer, and Harry idly wondered if his friend was getting enough fiber - due to being mentally out of town, he was unaware that Malfoy had suggested something similar the day prior.

Luna, on the other hand, maintained a face of complete serenity, as she nearly always did. It was a well practiced look, and necessary to protect herself from, well, she wasn't entirely sure. But she did feel safer when she wore it. Emotion was a troublesome thing, and if she pretended she didn't have it, perhaps it could not hurt her.

Unfortunately, all bets were off when a certain black haired boy was concerned.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione's vision began to blur, then swirl into an indistinct grey. She could nearly make out the shapes it was forming. Just a bit more…

"Hermione!" Ginny's voice crashed through her consciousness like a NASA probe into the Utah desert. Her eyes quickly snapped back to brown and resumed processing images normally.

"Oh, uh, hi, Ginny," she replied, still somewhat disoriented.

"Are you alright? You look like you just walked in on Dobby and Winky fornicating in McGonagall's knickers."

Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Gin, that's disgusting. I don't know what you fantasize about, but please, keep it to yourself."

xoxoxoxo

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ilovetom88: Thank you! Draco's character is fun to write, so I'm glad you like him!

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Fire Sorcerer: Ah, how cruel of them. Um, the jelly bean thing…well, my brother actually said the original thing about them lasting a year, and since his oddities are a constant in my life, I thought they should be in my story as well. As for Blaise, I'm starting to feel a little guilty that his mental stability was challenged so early in the game, so he hasn't been entirely conscious yet in the story. I accept the compliments and love, yet I mourn the loss of the cookies. Thank you though xD

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Queen Tigress: Glad you like. Sorry this chappy isn't as amusing, but I thought I should prolly get going with the whole "plot" thing.

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Sapphire Dragons: I'll take that as a compliment and just say thanks.

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Kichou: Thank you. Trying to decide if I should keep him in that state, or maybe let him sober up in the next chapter. We'll have to see.

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Fiona McKinnon: Thanks. Should I translate that as People And Monkeys Sing, or Please Add More Soon? We've reached a point where you'll have to specify. Regardless of singing, more is added. Hope you enjoyed. And, yeah, they know about Hermione's piercing, but not Ginny's. As her brother, Ron has a bit more influence so hers must remain a secret.

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Excuse me Mr. Mister: Threesome? I dunno, I don't really like playing golf that way (of course, I really don't like playing golf in any way) - it means someone has to drive a cart by themselves : ( Poor, lonely person.


	8. Musical Extremities

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Luna sat quietly in the library, attention alternating between three different books. Such an activity was not so odd for a Ravenclaw; in fact, it was quite expected. However, the exact nature of her reading material negated any normalcy the situation might otherwise boast. Well, that and the paperclip and feather crown adorning her ruffled blonde hair.

Flipping a page in the September issue of the Quibbler, she jotted something down in a hardcover journal. She studied the magazine page carefully, referred to a large textbook to her right, then made another note. She seemed to be very absorbed in her work.

But alas, seeing is deceiving, and she was barely aware of what she was reading and writing, being much more interested in the eyes she could feel watching her every move.

xoxoxoxo

Draco eyed the basket resting on the desk before him with trepidation. The nice lady at Madame B's had arranged the beauty products in it so nicely, with pink and white ribbon winding through the perfumes and cosmetics. The overall image was so perfect and pristine, he was afraid that if he touched it, the basket might spontaneously combust. But the tube of Smooth and Luscious Lipcolor in shade #182, Sunrise Rose, was calling to him. It really couldn't hurt to have a look, make sure it was alright before giving it to Weaselette - could it? He nervously reached his hand forward and -

MOOOOOOOOO! MOOOOOOOO!

The miniature rooster on Blaise's bedside table began wailing, causing Draco to jump in surprise and fall out of his chair. He leapt to his feet quickly before Zabini could once again catch him sprawled haphazardly across the floor.

"Damn it, Zabini; shut off that infernal noise!"

The bed hangings shifted, pushed aside by Blaise, who sleepily reached over to quiet the alarm. For many centuries magical peoples had used the small creatures as Muggles did alarm clocks. Incidentally, this is the source of the facetious aphorism purporting that wizards had small cocks.

Blaise rubbed his eyes sleepily and began to assess his ability to sense tactile discomfort.

__

WHAM!

Yup, that hurt. He was okay.

Draco stared. "Why the hell did you just throw yourself off your bed into that dresser?"

xoxoxoxo

"The seventh way a stable potion could spontaneously metamorphosize is if transfigured ingredients were used in preparation. See, the problem with any transfigured item is that at some point it would naturally revert to its former state. So if one were to, say, transfigure dragon scales into powdered unicorn horn to make a potion, then when the spell wore off, the potion's composition would suddenly alter drastically, potentially destabilizing and liable to re-equilibrate. This final stable form, if it is in fact stable, is difficult to predict but quite consistent," Hermione explained. She was feeling much better than she had last night before hiding the eerie necklace safely in a locked desk drawer. Out of sight, out of mind.

"Okay," said Ginny slowly. "But if one wanted a certain spontaneous reaction from a seemingly stable potion, is there any way to know what to transfigure for what result?" She had requested Hermione's assistance with a Potions essay after breakfast, and the girls were now ambling leisurely to the library, deep in discussion.

Hermione absently trailed her fingers against the cold stone wall of the corridors. "Well, the problem with that is Potions is a tricky subject. As Snape is ever so fond of saying, it's a very delicate and precise art. When making the potion, a lot of it is how and when one adds ingredients that makes the potion what it is. So when the transfigured substance reverts to its original form, it's already incorporated in the potion. Can you assume that it's as though you made the potion with the original? Or is it like taking then adding from the end result? The spontaneous reaction depends on such a wide variety of factors that it really is almost impossible to predict what exactly will occur."

"So the only way to know what will happen is a sort of guess and check," Ginny summarized.

Hermione smiled. Gin was a lot quicker than Harry and Ron. "Exactly. And that can get a bit dangerous."

"I imagine it could," the redhead mused, mind full of lovely images of destruction and mayhem. She'd have to try this transfigured potions thing out sometime.

xoxoxoxo

Harry crouched behind a large bookcase sighing dreamily with a dazed look in his bright green eyes. He peered between _Beating the Bludger: A Guide to Solo Quidditch _by Harry Palmer, and _Two-Handed Broomstick Techniques_ by Jack Hoffman, to get a better look at the occupant of table 42.

"Hi, Harry!"

Harry jumped and fell backwards, startled by Ginny's rather loud greeting.

"What're you doing back here?" inquired Hermione.

He tried to hush them, desperate to avoid Luna's notice. He glanced through the books again to see that she had vacated her table, and sighed in relief.

Hermione followed his gaze. "Harry, were you spying on someone?" she teased.

"Uh, n-no," he stuttered. "I was just- just looking at these books." He quickly grabbed the two he had been looking through earlier and showed them to her. He then noticed the titles, and a little part inside of him died.

Ginny started sniggering. "I'd ask if there was something you wanted to share, but, to be honest, I really would rather not know."

"They're not- I was just-" All the blood in Harry's body rushed to his face, broadcasting loudly his mortification. He could not imagine how the situation could be any worse.

"Hello, there." Luna popped her head around the end of the bookcase. "I thought I heard you lurking around back here, Harry."

It was as if Harry's blood realized that it was now woefully inadequate to represent the extent of his embarrassment, and dejectedly dispersed from his epidermis. The effect made Harry feel slightly faint. "Luna," he squeaked, beginning to turn a light shade of puce.

She smiled brightly. "Oh, Harry, you're so festively complected this morning. Are you preparing already for Christmas? Golly, every year it's earlier and earlier."

Hermione disagreed with Luna, rather thinking that Harry's face resembled a capricious banana, or better still, traffic signal. She thus took his untimely verdancy has her cue to go ahead and further humiliate him.

"Good morning, Luna!" she sang. "Harry was just showing us his selections for bedtime reading." She snatched the books from Harry and pushed them into Luna's hands.

Harry's blood then made a dash for his arms as he valiantly fought the urge to strangle his best friend, and Ginny, who had her scarf stuffed in her mouth as a barricade to her emerging laughter.

Luna read the titles. "I've always had an interest in Quidditch." She returned the books to him. "I'd like very much to read them when you're through. Although I'll surely need your assistance in understanding the content, as my experience is quite limited." She exuded an almost preternatural innocence.

Harry's blood departed for somewhere else entirely. What the hell was this, musical extremities?

Ginny had given up all pretenses of stoicism, collapsing on the floor in paroxysms of mirth. Hermione, however, narrowed her eyes and glanced back and forth between Harry and Luna. The conversational undercurrents tugging at her subconscious, she wondered what exactly was going on here, and whether she could beat it out of the hysterical redhead.

Luna noticed her appraising look and smiled sweetly at her. "Well, it was lovely chatting with you all. Harry, do tell me when you've finished… with those books. And you might want to check on Ginny; I'm not entirely certain she's breathing properly." Indeed, Ginny was turning purple and making a sound Hermione wasn't sure was normal for humans, or most mammals, at that.

Luna dropped her voice and whispered to Hermione. "Wouldn't you like to know." She turned on her heel and skipped off.

Before shock could set in at Luna's apparent clairvoyance, Hermione noticed Harry was leaning awkwardly against the bookshelf with a strained look on his face. Deciding she didn't want to know, she grabbed Ginny by the collar and dragged the aspiring mental patient out of the library and up to her dorm. It had been a thought provoking morning, and she needed jelly beans urgently.

xoxoxoxo

Blaise, bruised but sober, cheerfully strolled down the corridor, grateful to again be in full possession of his mental facilities. He saw Hermione approach, and nearly called out a greeting, but stopped. She was muttering to herself incomprehensively and dragging the youngest Weasley, who was evidently having some sort of seizure. Hermione seemed relatively unconcerned, yet Blaise predicted that it might be in his best interest to leave her alone for the time being.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione deposited Ginny in the girls dorm, telling her to come find her when she could speak normally again. She then went up to her room in the prefects' dormitory. Opening the door, she was pleased to find the other female prefects were nowhere in sight. Finally, some peace and quiet.

She opened her desk drawer to fetch her jelly beans. Her hand strayed from the bag of candy to a small velvet pouch next to it. Hermione bit her lip in hesitation, then removed the contents of the pouch. The necklace she had purchased the day prior fell into her hand, and she placed it around her neck. Idly twirling it around her finger, she commenced reflection on the morning's events. As she drifted slowly into a dreamlike state, her eyes began to glow.

xoxoxoxo

Harry's confusion had persisted for so long it teetered upon the brink of corporealness, almost seeming to have acquired mass at this point. If the current state of affairs continued any longer he would need to clear space in his trunk for it. Who knows, eventually it might ask him for a cup of tea, with extra sugar. He wondered briefly if confusion had a sweet tooth, then quickly derailed the train of thought, as it occurred to him that he was also nurturing insanity. If he allowed it to gestate, it would only bicker incessantly with his confusion, leaving him with a massive headache and broken teacups. Damn kids. What? Before he could have an aneurism, Ron found him.

"Harry? What are you doing here?"

Harry was sitting in the urinal in the boys' bathroom looking as pensive as a man soaked in urine could. "Peeing."

Ron's mouth opened and closed, as though he weren't quite sure what to say. "But that's not- Yo- you can't-" He paused and took a deep breath. "It just doesn't work that way, Harry."

"It does now," Harry insisted stubbornly.

"I think there's something very wrong with you," Ron said slowly.

Harry sighed. "Okay, look, there's-" Harry stopped mid-sentence, terrified at the disaster he had barely averted. After taking a mental moment to calm himself, he laughed inwardly at his near folly; he had almost confided his feelings to Ron. Such a breach of male friendship protocol would've been unforgivable.

"My zipper's stuck," he finished finally.

Ron nodded in understanding. "Ah. Happens to me all the time; if you go to Madame Pomfrey, she'll cut you out of them, but it's so much trouble that I've just stopped zipping up in the first place."

Harry inclined his head solemnly. A question he'd never dared ask, finally answered.

xoxoxoxo

P.S. If you want to know how I imagine Harry really looked in the library scene, check my profile for a link.

xoxoxoxo

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Sapphire Dragons: Thank you! My goal in life is to make reviewers happy. Okay, that's a lie, but I'm sincerely glad that my happiness coincides with yours.

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Excuse Me Mr. Mister: That does make sense, which makes me wonder if you just make more sense than you think, or I don't make sense either and the nonsense allows us to see sense where there's really none. If that makes sense. And golf sucks, too, but in a different way. Golf golf would be a hell of a lot more interesting if the two "games" sucked in the same way. But we won't go there.

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Madam Sorceress: Thanks! About Draco, eh, men are fickle. Sorry the update couldn't be sooner, but alas, 'tis a busy time of year with school and whatnot.

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froggifrog: I'm only going to tell this story once (okay, twice, since I've added it to the beginning of the first chapter to prevent these things from happening again), so listen carefully: Once upon a time there was a company that made chainsaws. Today, the company still makes chainsaws, but with a new twist: each saw is adorned a little label that says "WARNING: Do not use near genitals." One can only imagine why they felt the need to caution us against such things. Perhaps there was some sort of lawsuit, after which these warnings were required to be placed on the product in plain view. Then, if anyone repeated that terrible, terrible mistake, the makers of the chainsaw would be perfectly free from fault - after all, the user was warned. With this in mind, please read this story's warning and disclaimer carefully, as you obviously have failed to do so. Thank you.


	9. Chicken Scratching

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Blaise stopped in the corridor, arguing with himself, noting in dismay that he and he were both losing miserably. Finally, he turned around in the direction Hermione was headed. Perhaps if he helped her with the spastic Weasley she would be more endeared to him.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione awoke with a jolt. "Holy Hell," she yelped. "This is _so_ not my dorm room."

She had regained consciousness in a small town, which seemed to be on the verge of burning to the ground. She was surprised to find night had already fallen - for exactly how long had she dozed off?

She watched in shock as figures cloaked in black threw hexes right and left, obviously thrilled at the mayhem that was resulting from their actions. Hermione wondered why their victims weren't fighting back when she heard tires screech and saw the car skid off the road. Were they-? Was this-? She noticed all at once the mailboxes, bicycles, and power lines. Of course the people couldn't retaliate - they were Muggles.

The townspeople were screaming in terror, and seeing a woman with infant in arms running from a Deatheater, Hermione felt a flash of rage that anyone could attack defenseless innocents.

She reached for her wand, realizing with a panic that it was not on her person. A wicked cackle made her look up in alarm.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Mudblood." She gasped as she saw Lucius Malfoy's face grinning maliciously down at her from beneath a black hood. "And what a pleasant surprise it is." He smirked and pointed his wand at her.

"Avada-"

xoxoxoxo

Ginny, still a bit pink and lightheaded due to her hysteria, determinedly wove her way through the empty hall. In her efforts to avoid collision with things that did not exist, she ran straight into one that did.

"Ow! Dammit, Zabini, watch where you're going!" She sat up and rubbed her head.

"I- what?" Zabini paused from pulling himself to his feet. "You were the one tearing through here like a mad, drunken woman! And what's wrong with your voice?"

"Absolutely nothing, you clumsy snake," she spat in her odd raspy squeak.

"There is so! You sound like you swallowed a duck with tuberculosis."

Ginny glared up at him and held out her hand. He stared at it as though she were handing him a bomb wrapped in a three-legged squid.

"Well? Aren't you going to help me up?"

Realization dawned, and he took her hand and hauled her to her feet. Honestly, the boy was as slow thinking as prior mentioned squid was walking.

She brushed herself off, sneered at him haughtily, then commenced winding her way down the hall.

"Hey, wait!" he called after her. "Weren't you with Hermione just a little while ago?" He jogged after.

Ginny smiled wickedly. "Like her, do you," she stated more than asked, with a frightening sort of glee.

He blushed slightly. "Well, not in- I mean, yes, but- not really it's just-"

Ginny tilted her head to the left and considered him. It was too good to be true - two victims in one day.

The expression on her face left Blaise feeling quite threatened; he could almost see her incisors extending as she grinned.

"Aww! You do like her!" Ginny cooed maliciously. "That's so sweet! But what about dear Malfoy? Won't he be hurt?"

"I am not sleeping with Draco Malfoy!" Zabini yelled, just as a group of third year girls paraded down the hall. They all immediately burst into giggles, and ran to share the news with their friends that Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy were having a fantastic love affair.

Blaise put his head in his hands. "Look, could you please just tell me where she is?"

"Here."

He looked up and realized that they had reached the portrait to the prefects' dorms. Well, duh. Why hadn't he thought of that?

"Because you're an idiot."

He looked at the redhead in alarm. The little rodent couldn't read minds, could she?

"No, you're just so transparent I'm surprised that birds don't smash into you daily."

He decided to test her, and thought for a moment.

She promptly kneed him in the groin. "Don't you dare think that about my mother," she hissed. She gave the password and the young girl from the 16th century featured in the portrait swung open the door, sniggering at the Slytherin's misfortune.

"It was actually Ron, not your mother," he rasped from his fetal position on the floor.

Before Ginny's unruly mind could conjure a terrible mental image, an earsplitting scream was heard from inside the dormitory.

xoxoxoxo

Harry suppressed a scream of frustration and snapped his quill in half. No, that wouldn't work, either.

He had retreated to the prefect lavatory to formulate a plan for courting Luna, but it wasn't going well. Most of his plans looked like Quidditch plays, and he suspected it was due to the influence of two books resting innocuously in the sink beside him. He hadn't before realized the innuendo that flooded the game and he probably could never again play without blushing horribly.

He also didn't think that the rules of Quidditch applied all that much to dating; Luna might not appreciate it if he tried for the golden snitch too soon. And he really wasn't too crazy about the idea of bringing in twelve other players.

He paused as an idea came to him, one that didn't involve Quidditch in either sense of the word. He scribbled on the parchment for a moment, his chicken scratching (-snicker-) even more illegible written with only half a quill. Leaning back to survey his work, he smiled. Hopefully it wouldn't end up like the greenhouse fiasco.

He bent to make another note, when a scream tore through the air. He leapt to his feet, slipped on the tiled floor, and fell into the toilet. His second attempt to stand failed as well, so he crawled quickly out into the common room, just in time to see Zabini put his foot through the girls' door.

"Well, that didn't go as planned," Blaise quipped with a grimace, wrenching his foot out the wood and preparing for another go.

"It's not locked, you moron." Ginny shoved him out of the way impatiently. She turned the knob and threw open the door

"What's going on?" Harry questioned.

Blaise looked down at the Gryffindor, bemused. "Why is your bum wet?"

Ron stood from the sofa before the fireplace, where he had been napping concealed from view. "He was sitting in a urinal," he informed Blaise.

"I was not!"

"You were so; I saw you!"

Blaise could now smell something a bit odd, which gave credit to Ron's claim. He took a step back from Harry.

"Well, I was earlier, but that's not why my pants are wet now! I fell into the toilet," he explained. "I was thinking about this girl and-" Ron fled the room, not wanting to hear any more. "No! If you'd let me explain-"

"That's okay, Potter," reassured Blaise, inching further away. "You don't have to tell us. In fact, please don't."

xoxoxoxo

After washing his hands thoroughly, Draco slipped on a pair of dragon-hide gloves and gingerly picked up the basket. Holding it out in front of him, afraid to come in contact with it, he departed from the boys prefect dorms. As he trotted down the steps he heard a scream, then the distinct sound of an idiot putting a limb through a door. However, after living in the Slytherin dorms for five years, he had grown accustomed to such noises and gave the racket no notice. A fatal mistake, as it were.

xoxoxoxo

Hermione screamed as she snapped back to reality, and quickly ceased the unnecessary noise. Gasping for air, she scanned her whereabouts. Never had she been so happy to find herself in a girls' dorm room, which smelled distressingly like a boys' locker room.

Before she could complete the thought of wondering how badly the boys' dorm must smell, someone's expensive-looking leather shoe appeared in the door. Realizing the shoe was attached to a foot (presumably attached to the rest of a person) she hurried over to it. However, the foot vacated the door, which burst open before she could reach it.

"Huh?" was the articulate response she managed before something red and black flung itself into her arms. "Ginny?"

"Hermione! Are you alright? We heard you scream!" Ginny pulled herself away from Hermione and began check her for injuries.

"We?" Sure enough, Blaise and Harry were in the doorway, one standing, the other on his knees, and both looking quite uncomfortable: Blaise because apparently it was his foot that had become so well acquainted with the door and Harry because he seemed to have spilled something on his pants.

"It was really nothing," began Hermione, attempting to detach the redhead from her person. "Just a little nightmare; I-"

"Say, what's going on in here?" Draco interrupted, pushing his was into the room. "Oh, Weasley, there you are. Listen I wanted to- OW!"

"Malfoy, give me my book back this instant!" Ginny demanded, holding out her hand.

"But you threw it at me!" Even as he protested he leaned over to retrieve the unabridged edition of _Hogwarts, a History_.

"And now I want it back!" She snatched it from his hands and hit him with it. "Now what do you want? It had better be important."

Draco held up the basket. "I have-"

Ginny took one look at the pink and white monstrosity clutched in his hand and deliberately incorrectly guessed his response. "Look, Malfoy, can't you get Crabbe or Goyle to play dress up with you? I'm busy now."

"No, it's-" He tried to give her the basket.

"Dammit, Malfoy, you're such an insensitive prick," she accused with a glare.

He blinked at her in disbelief. "What?"

"Hermione's obviously upset and all you can think about is yourself."

"But-"

"And what exactly are you trying to say here? That I smell bad, thus need perfume? That I'm ugly, thus need more make up?"

"I-" Draco was horribly flustered. This was not going well.

"Plus, I'm already with someone." She reached out and grabbed Hermione's arm, hauling the girl to her side.

Hermione's eyes widened. "Hey, let's keep me out of this, okay, kids?" she requested nervously, for Ginny was in a frighteningly unpredictable mood. She tried to send a telepathic SOS to Blaise and Harry, but they paid her no heed. Blaise had joined Harry on the floor and they were both engrossed in Ginny's verbal attack on Draco. Harry had somehow managed to procure some popcorn, while Blaise was munching on her beloved jelly beans. She glared at the thieving Slytherin and wondered if Ginny would loan her that book for a moment. However, the redhead seemed to still be using it.

Ginny shook her copy of _Hogwarts, a History _threateningly at Draco. "So bugger off, Ferret-boy," she concluded. As a grand finale, she blew a raspberry and chucked the book at him.

He stood perfectly still as it once again rebounded off his head. For the first time ever, Draco Malfoy, who normally never shut up, was speechless.

__

Well, he thought, _at least this means I get to keep the lipstick_.

xoxoxoxo

I'm terribly sorry, everyone, but this will prolly be the last update for a while. I get my wisdom teeth out tomorrow morning (the drugs might make my writing cooler, I'll have to consider that) and then I head off to college. Which means I won't be able to harass my betas (my sister, who wrote my profile, and my brother, who is oddly competent at assuming Luna's character) at all hours for help with the story.

So next time I update, I'll either be insanely doped up on pain killers or it'll be Christmas. We'll have to see how things go tomorrow.

Wish me luck!


	10. Cocoa Butter Bum

Disclaimer: I borrowed names, places, etc. from Ms. J.K. Rowling to serve as a medium for my dementia. I have taken great (very, very great) liberties with her work, and if such offends, I suggest you leave.

Warning: What you are about to read comes from a deranged mind with a love for J.K. Rowling's books and a distinct inability to take anyone or anything (including herself) seriously, except under the influence of certain controlled substances which serve to shove her rudely into reality. Said substances were not used in the making of this fan fic.

xoxoxoxo

Ginny's fierce glare gave Draco the distinct impression that if he so much as dared to even consider breathing, she would remove his spinal cord through his left nostril, without the benefit of anesthesia. To add emphasis to her glare, she had quite clearly said as much.

Finally, much to Draco's relief, she turned back to Hermione. However, only one thought managed to cross his mind before she whirled back around and poked him in the chest with (interestingly enough) her middle finger.

"I saw that look. And, no, you don't." She swiped the basket from his hands, grabbed Hermione's arm, and towed the girl out of the room.

On her way out, Hermione snatched her precious jelly beans from Blaise. "Mine," she hissed dangerously. Busy sending death stares at him, she didn't realize their destination until Ginny closed the bathroom door.

"Eh?"

"We need a spa day," Ginny answered grimly. She reached under the sink and pulled out a large makeup bag. Upon standing, she caught sight of two books nestled in the sink. "Urg." She picked them up by the corners and tossed them out the door.

"Right then." Ignoring the disgusted look on Hermione's face, she began mixing avocado and peanut butter. "So let's hear about this nightmare of yours."

"I am not putting that on my face," Hermione warned, eyeing the container with trepidation.

Ginny looked at her as though she had just suggested rubbing cocoa butter on her bum. "Of course not, you lunatic. That's disgusting." She pulled out a bag of cheesy crisps. "We're going to eat it."

xoxoxoxo

Due to the sadistic streak inherent in all Slytherins, Draco could not help but be impressed when two hardcover library books sailed out the bathroom door and struck Blaise and Potter with remarkable accuracy. Such a violent little creature. How could he not be completely enchanted?

Blaise hunched over painfully, arms wrapped around his midsection. Damn Weasley. Damn Granger, too; he didn't know what was in those jelly beans, but they were oddly addictive, much like the girl herself. Rotten little thief.

He looked down at Harry and considered taking out his frustrations on the Gryffindork. Upon further consideration, he decided against. Judging from the way the boy was rolling around on the floor, clutching his groin, he was in enough pain as is.

However, one look at the titles of the books Gin had thrown changed his mind. He could definitely make Potter suffer just a bit more.

After all, where was the fun in being a Slytherin if one didn't act the part?

xoxoxoxo

"Lucius Malfoy, are you serious? I knew he was one of them." Ginny was so entirely absorbed in the telling of Hermione's dream that the older girl was beginning to suspect the redhead had forgotten it was just that: a dream.

Hermione dipped a cheddar crisp in the avocado-peanut butter concoction, which was surprisingly palatable. "Speaking of the Malfoys," she interrupted, munching thoughtfully. "Anything new with you and blondie out there?"

Ginny idly scratched at her face mask, the ingredients of which Hermione had vehemently refused knowledge of, preferring to simply spread it on, no questions asked. "I'm not sure. He is rather dishy. I'm trying to decide if that outweighs what a prat he is."

"He did bring you this." Hermione selected a pale pink polish from the basket and began to paint Ginny's toe nails. "As hideous as the colors are, it is decent quality."

"You think the colors are disgusting, smell this." Gin shoved a perfume bottle under Hermione's nose.

Hermione carefully took it from her and inhaled deeply. "I _like_ this." She set the bottle in the ever growing pile of things she was commandeering from the basket.

"And I like pink." The girls glared at each other mutinously for a moment before bursting into giggles and continuing to sort through Malfoy's offerings. It seemed the boy was good for something.

Hermione was absently lingering in mild surprise on the thought that a Slytherin could, in fact, be useful. She was peripherally aware that Ginny was busy mixing something purple in a large bright green popcorn bowl, but didn't give the girl much notice, wondering if perhaps Zabini had any redeeming qualities as well. Regardless of whether or not he did may or may not outweigh that the boy was a stinking thief. Those jelly beans were hers, dammit, and no way in hell was she going to share. Speaking of which…Her speculative gaze alternated between the bag of candies and the avocado-peanut butter mess.

"I am a genius," Ginny announced with satisfaction before Hermione could dip a lemon jelly bean into the goo.

"Eh?" She glanced up at the redhead.

"Behold." Ginny presented the bowl dramatically.

Hermione examined it with interest. "Okay, what is this, and how do I eat it?"

Ginny gave the older girl a withering look. "It's a foot mask, duh." She paused and her expression grew thoughtful. "Although George claims it's quite good with celery sticks."

xoxoxoxo

Nose in the air, Harry marched from the prefect common room among gales of Slytherin laughter, struggling to keep his dignity intact. He was the boy-who-lived, dammit. If he could face Voldemort's annual murder attempts, he could handle a little verbal abuse from a couple of his peers.

Sniffling back tears, he hauled his books up to the Gryffindor dorms, his only remaining sanctuary. Ron and Neville met him outside the portrait.

"Harry, there's something I need to discuss with you." Ron grabbed Neville's hand and approached Harry with a somber expression. Neville gave him an odd look and removed his hand from the other boy's grasp.

Apparently Harry's sanctuary was no more. He glanced around frantically for an opening, then sighed in resignation. There was no way out, might as well face the music. Although he rather liked music. Did Luna like music? Would she be more endeared to him if he did or didn't? Though his last attempt at winning her affections failed miserably.

"-sorry, but this is just the way things have to be," Ron finished. Neville looked extremely uncomfortable.

Harry blinked. "Sorry, could you repeat that?"

Ron sighed. "I was just saying that you've been really out of…"

Harry's eyes quickly took on an unfocused glaze. Perhaps he should just let the relationship take its course. Were there any other metaphors relating relationships to ships themselves? Boating…Take her out on the lake? No, the giant squid may attack. Maybe she'd like that? More than likely he'd humiliate himself even more in such a-

"Harry, pay attention! I'd rather Ron not say it again." Neville seemed as desperate to get out of there as Harry had been.

Harry shook his head in a feeble attempt to regain coherent thought as the portrait was opened from the inside.

"Harry, I'm leaving you for Neville," Ron summarized impatiently.

The fourth year who had been about to step out into the hall froze. Eyes wide in alarm, she slowly backed into the common room, and the portrait swung shut again.

Harry watched her go dispassionately. The battle had already been lost; it didn't matter anymore who else embarrassed him how. "What do you mean," he stated more than asked.

"You haven't been around much lately. In short, you've been a lousy best friend. Plus I saw on Pince's list that you checked out-" He gestured at the books in Harry's hands. "-those. And, well, I just…I'm with Neville now."

"You- You're actually-" Harry waived his hands in the air incomprehensibly.

"He's dumping you for me," Neville supplied helpfully, just as two Ravenclaws rounded the corner. Harry felt the Fates deal yet another crushing blow as, watching then walk away sniggering, he realized they were Luna's roommates.

Neville paused. "I probably shouldn't have phrased it like that so loudly," he apologized with a wince.

xoxoxoxo

Three hours after entering, Hermione and Ginny exited the prefect bathrooms, nails painted, hair relaxed, skin exfoliated, and tummies full of snacks of dubious composition. Blaise and Draco were doing homework by the fire, and looked up as the two girls tumbled out, giggling madly and reeking of expensive perfumes.

"Hi, Hermione!" Blaise chirped. "Say, I wanted to ask you-"

"Ginny," Hermione interrupted, laughter vanished from her voice. "Will you please tell that stinking Slytherin over there that I am not speaking to him?"

The redhead parroted the words back to Zabini, though well aware that he had heard.

"Well, why not?" he demanded.

"Tell him because he befriended a ferret, kicked a hole through my door, and pilfered my candy." She glared at a point just above his shoulder, evidently refusing to look at him as well.

Ginny dutifully turned from Hermione to Blaise with a smirk. "She says to tell you because you befriended a-"

"I heard her," snapped Blaise. "And I really think you're being unreasonable, Hermione."

"And I really think you should leave me out of this," Draco suggested, justifiably afraid of injury to his person, courtesy of Granger. Plus, he did not want her to put him in an unfavorable light in Ginny's eyes, though he suspected it was years too late for that.

"Shut up," three voices snapped simultaneously. The blond wisely returned to his homework, but kept an ear open for sounds that might indicate the girls were inflicting bodily harm on Blaise. After all, watching girls beat up Zabini never lost appeal, no matter how frequent the occurrence.

xoxoxoxo

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Excuse Me, Mr. Mister: Extreme golf…my brother and my father both play obsessively; to create such a game would be sacrilege in their eyes. So I'm all for it. Much apologies for the delayed update, but I believe my excuse is marvelous. I turned out to be allergic to the pain killers, and suffered excessively and unnecessarily. They refused to prescribe new ones because they were afraid I'd become addicted or some nonsense. That and college became a horrible ordeal, plus there are some incredibly dishy guys staying in the same building who are very distracting. Sorry, but gorgeous blue eyes are inexplicably more appealing than sitting in front of a computer screen for hours on end. Okay, I lie. I can explain exactly how they're more appealing.

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Queen Tigress: Alas, due to the allergy, cool, drugged up writing could not occur. Hopefully, this wasn't too terrible without the drugs.

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Bourei no Hikari: Insanity hilarity in my book, so I'm glad that worked out. Thanks for reading; I'll worship at Sapphire Dragons feet at the soonest available opportunity.

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The girl trapped in a dream: Thanks! I live to entertain. -dances- Sorry the update took so long.

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Blueshyskymoon08: Luna rox my sox, yo. Thanks for compliments xD

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Brantails: Thanks, glad you like.

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Fiona McKinnon: True meaning of PAMS noted. And yes, it is odd, but so is my brother and we love him for it.

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Golden Tears of the Heart: Nice to see you're back. Thanks for reviewing and all the compliments. I read your story, reviewed and so on. Feel free to email me if you wish; the link is on my profile. xD

Well, everyone, there you have it. It'll prolly be a while before the next update; I'm suffering a bit of writers block. Leave me suggestions and inspiration, and we'll see if we can hurry the process a bit. Toodles, y'all; take care.


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